


Don't Touch the Fledgling

by 100percentfluffster



Series: Don't Touch the Fledgling [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Hurt Simon Lewis, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NonCon blood drinking, Protective Raphael, Raphael Knows it, Simon is the Sun, Violation, Visiting Clan, Visiting Clan Leader Attacks Simon, clan feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 21:46:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11261631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100percentfluffster/pseuds/100percentfluffster
Summary: A feeling of unease creeps up Raphael's spine when he doesn’t find his fledgling upon his first cursory glance. His eyes scan the room a second time, drink held tightly, but forgotten, in his hand. He cocks his head, desperate to catch the sound of a laugh or a word of Simon’s, but he hears nothing. He sorts through the noises around him as he inhales, searching for the familiar scent of caramel. He stiffens when he hears it, unsure if it was real or not. But then he hears it again a moment later and the glass falls from his fingers to break into pieces on the floor.OR a visiting clan leader assaults Simon when Raphael is distracted. Raphael rushes to protect Simon.





	Don't Touch the Fledgling

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in a sad mood tonight. This was itching at me and I had to write it. I debated publishing it for a while, but I decided to do so because I think it's important to show Raphael as a kind and not demanding partner.  
> I love Raphael as clan leader, he just wants to protect his family. And Simon.  
> This is noncon blood drinking, a violation, an assault upon Simon. It's told from Raphael's point of view. Not graphic. (I don't think)

Raphael’s head pulses in pain as he forces himself to listen to the continued prattling of the visiting clan leader before him. The man is centuries older than him and has been the leader of his clan for far longer than Raphael has been alive. Or undead. The man gives him the creeps, him and his clan mates that have come with him are all old and crude. They have little respect for mundanes, often dropping hints that they don’t follow the accords to the letter. Raphael tries to ignore the slip ups and keep a cordial expression, but it’s hard.

It’s the sixth day, night, that the six visitors have been with them, and everyone at the DuMort has been high strung, eager for the others to leave. Raphael is reluctant to insult or anger them, the other clan being strong and formidable, so he tries to stay neutral. His clan follows his example, knowing what could be at risk, and the forced atmosphere has everyone on edge. 

Even Simon’s light has dimmed over the visit, and that Raphael cannot stand. Simon is the best thing that’s shined upon this hotel and its leader. Raphael knows it and the clan knows it. Raphael has grit his teeth through many insults and insinuations made towards his fledgling from these visitors. Always cutting them off quickly and efficiently with quiet warnings. The visitors seem to find his protectiveness amusing. Raphael seethes to Simon at night, worried and angered at their dismissiveness. Possessiveness and fear making him cling to the younger vampire’s body, only soothed by gentle kisses and words from Simon. 

Raphael’s eyes search the crowd for his fledgling’s slender body. He usually only has to follow the laughter, but there’s been so little of that over the last week. When he finds his boyfriend in the crowd Raphael’s heart feels a bit lighter. The boy is wearing his normal skinny jeans and a thin t-shirt, and the sight of the informal attire in the crowd of older and well dressed vampires makes him smile. Raphael loves Simon in a suit, especially his suits, but he’ll admit that Simon looks more natural in his own clothes. 

The fledgling has little control over his physical supernatural abilities, and often manages to trip and break things or injure himself, but Raphael will admit that Simon has his own form of grace. It’s in every twist of his mouth as it forms a shining smile, in the way his fingers dance along the strings of a guitar, or his voice when he talks excitedly. Simon is a rarity. So very alive despite his still heart. 

Raphael is pulled from his musings when the man, monster, in front of him clears his throat pointedly. Raphael’s eyes flick back to him and the patronizing amusement clear on the other’s face makes Raphael’s lips itch to pull back into a snarl. 

Atticus, the clan leader, chuckles and says, “He’s pretty. Pale and long legged, but I don’t know how you can put up with the thing. I’d sew his mouth shut if I didn’t think it could be put to better use.” The vampire smirks and his eyes are fixed behind Raphael, where Simon is standing. 

Raphael’s eyes darken in rage and he bites out, “I’ll make sure your mouth stays shut if you keep talking about him like that.” 

Atticus’ eyes come back to Raphael, but they hold only disdain and amusement. “He’s just a fledgling, Raphael. We both know the young have their uses. What’s he sound like, may I ask? I’m sure he has a delicious moan.” 

Raphael isn’t sure if he’s relieved or not that the room is full enough with conversation that the others can’t hear Atticus’ words. He lets out a warning hiss, having to fight his instincts that are shouting at him to kill. The words are so assuming and slimy they make his skin crawl. Simon and him aren’t like that. Have never been like that. The fledgling had been so understanding when Raphael had told him that sex was off the table. So accepting and proud of Raphael for telling him. “You may not ask, Atticus. You may not ask, look, think, or speak of him or to him. He may be a fledgling but he deserves your respect.” 

Atticus snorts, “Attention perhaps. Respect?” 

Raphael is blown away by the nerve of this man. To say such things about Simon, in his hotel, surrounded by his clan. Raphael misses the way that Atticus’ eyes move past him once again to settle on the fledgling in question. Raphael doesn’t see Simon slip out of the parlour with a pained expression on his face. 

“Excuse me, Raphael. I think I’ve taken up enough of your time,” Atticus says smoothly, already walking away. Raphael blinks in shock at the disrespect but just growls and lets him leave. He closes his eyes for a moment to gather himself, taking calming breathes he doesn’t necessarily need. It takes him a minute before he can get his rage under control. When he does he walks to a nearby table and picks up a glass of blood. He sips on it as his eyes search the crowd once again for Simon. 

A feeling of unease creeps up his spine when he doesn’t find his fledgling upon his first cursory glance. His eyes scan the room a second time, drink held tightly, but forgotten, in his hand. He cocks his head, desperate to catch the sound of a laugh or a word of Simon’s, but he hears nothing. He sorts through the noises around him as he inhales, searching for the familiar scent of caramel. He stiffens when he hears it, unsure if it was real or not. But then he hears it again a moment later and the glass falls from his fingers to break into pieces on the floor. 

His feet are rushing to the door, his ears straining to hear the next small whimper of fear. It’s a sound he never wanted to hear again. He’s through the doors and running through the halls in seconds. It doesn’t take him long to find them, his senses attuned to Simon in a way he’s never experienced before. 

Atticus has him backed up against a wall, his hand pulling hard at Simon’s messy hair. Raphael can smell the fear coming off of the young vampire and he pushes his body forward faster when Atticus pulls Simon’s head to the side to bare his neck. Simon tries to break away, to flee, but Atticus slams the smaller body into the wall with enough force that Simon’s head snaps back into the hard surface. The sound of the impact is sickening as it echoes in Raphael’s ears and the smell of freshly spilt blood wafts through the air. 

Atticus pushes the side of Simon’s face into the wall, his neck left vulnerable and Raphael’s heart cries out in rage when Atticus bites down on the revealed flesh. Sharing blood is an intimate act amongst vampires. To take it like this is a cruel form of assault. It’s a gross powerplay. Atticus knows this better than most. Simon cries out in pain and fear and horror at the feeling and he feebly pushes the other away. Atticus bites down harder and Simon’s hands fall back to his sides as his knees go weak at the white hot pain and shame. 

Raphael slams his body into Atticus’ and they both go stumbling to the ground. Raphael hears Simon’s body impact with the floor behind them as well, and he quickly turns and rushes to his fledgling’s side. Bloody tears are falling from Simon’s dazed eyes and Raphael’s thumb smears the red across a sharp cheekbone as he tries to rub them away. Simon slowly focuses his eyes on Raphael and a sob breaks loose from between pink lips. Raphael feels sick but he swallows and says softly, “Mi corazon, lo siento. Estoy aqui, ahora.” Raphael places a chaste but hard kiss to Simon’s forehead and helps the other to sit up and lean back against the wall. 

“Raphael!” Atticus roars in rage to the side of them. He’s picked himself off the floor now, brushing imaginary dirt from his jacket. Raphael’s hand comes up to the bloody wound on Simon’s throat, it’s leaking blood at an alarming pace even as it visibly heals. Atticus had taken a chunk of flesh with him when Raphael tackled him. “Raphael! This is how you treat your guests?!” 

Raphael ignores the other’s words as he pushes down on the healing gash, trying to stop the blood flow. His other hand is still cradling Simon’s cheek and he looks into the horror filled eyes and whispers once again, “I’m so sorry, Simon.” He brushes a reverent kiss against Simon’s lips and he nearly weeps in relief when he feels Simon lean into the contact just slightly. He’s forcefully pulled back and away from Simon when Atticus grabs his shoulder and yanks Raphael to his feet. 

The younger clan leader spins around to glare at the attacker. Several members of the clan have followed them, including Atticus’ clanmates as well. Raphael’s hard stare settles on each visiting member in turn before he turns back to Atticus. 

“This is completely uncalled for, Raphael. You may be a clan leader but you’ve barely lived compared to me, and you can’t just--” 

“Leave,” Raphael bites out, interrupting the clear beginning of a rant. 

Atticus blinks at him and says, “What?” 

Raphael snarls so harshly it leaves his next words hoarse, “You will leave this hotel now, and never return. You would be wise to do so now before I kill you.” 

Atticus shakes his head in mock disappointment and replies, “I had such high hopes for you, Raphael. Camille understood what it took to lead this group. The New York Clan has historically…” Atticus continues to talk but Raphael turns back to Simon when he hears a quiet mumble of his name. 

He kneels next to his fledgling once again and places a soft hand in Simon’s curls as he looks at him. Simon’s hands come up to clutch at Raphael’s jacket and his voice wobbles when he speaks, “Rafa.” Raphael is confused by the panic in the younger man’s eyes. “I didn’t--he--I didn’t want to--I don’t know what happened…” Simon trails off as his eyes close in pain. Raphael can see blood slowly dripping down the wall behind Simon from the invisible wound that must have formed when his head had been slammed into the wall. When Raphael glances back up the wall he can see broken plaster and cracks showing just how much force had been used. No wonder Simon’s so confused. 

“I know, carino. It’s not your fault,” Raphael replies. He can feel the hand moving towards his shoulder from behind, and his own snaps out to grab onto Atticus’ wrist, and twists mercilessly. He feels the crunch of bone and cartilage as the wrist and arm underneath his fingers both snap. He twists to kick out towards the other’s legs and Atticus hits the ground hard. Raphael bursts to his feet, grabbing Atticus by the jacket as he goes, and lifts the man up to his feet, slamming him into the opposite wall. 

The visiting members move forward to help their leader, but Raphael’s clan hisses and snarls in warning, causing them to freeze, their eyes on Atticus, but no longer moving towards him. Atticus’ eyes are large and he’s sputtering in indignation. Raphael mirrors the other’s earlier actions and pushes Atticus face into the wall, baring his neck to Raphael. The older vampire’s entire body tenses as he fights to get out of the hold. Raphael holds him there with ease and he moves his face to hover closely over the pulse point. “You deserve nothing more than for me to rip out your throat and bleed you dry. You touched my fledgling, you’ve disrespected his rights, my word, and my clan.” Raphael’s nails slash across Atticus’ cheek as he pulls back, leaving deep bloody scratches. “But I know what it takes to run this family, Atticus. Better than Camille. Better than you. I won’t bring trouble upon us, I won’t risk the safety of any of my family. You are a monster and a poor leader. You may be old and you may think you know a lot, but all you’ve shown today is your disgusting and pitiful true character.” 

Raphael steps forward again, crowding into Atticus’ space, “I said leave. I will not say it again. Stay and you will be left at the mercy of my clan. We protect our own.” The clan hisses in support, and several of them look eager for Atticus to push back, to stay, so they can sink their fangs into him. He’d violated their precious baby fledgling.

The older clan leader is finally looking at Raphael with fear and understanding. His eyes flick down to Simon and Raphael clacks his teeth, baring his fangs. Atticus quickly looks away, straightening his clothes in an attempt to regain some dignity. Raphael turns his back to the monster, his attention turning once again to Simon, trusting his clan to protect the two of them if needed. 

He gently picks Simon up, blood seeping into his jacket without his notice. The others clear a path for them as Raphael moves away from the scene. His eyes meet Lily’s, his second in command, and she gives him a nod, her eyes hard and already moving away from his to focus on Atticus. Raphael cradles Simon close to his chest as he walks to his room. Their room at this point. 

Simon blinks up at him when he’s placed on the soft sheets of the bed. “I’ll get ‘em dirty,” Simon slurs. 

“I’ll buy new ones,” Raphael replies. He brushes stray hairs from Simon’s forehead and his fingers gently move to prod at the head injury. Simon hisses in pain immediately, and Raphael closes his eyes as he feels the healing crack of bone. Simon’s skull must have cracked from the assault. 

He pulls back, knowing it will heal faster with no interference. He touches his forehead to Simon’s and inhales the caramel smell of Simon. It almost calms him, but the smell is so pungent from the spilt blood that it instead makes his veins burn with anger. “Rafa,” Simon whimpers. Raphael’s eyes burst open to meet Simon’s. “I’m sorry,” Simon says. 

Raphael’s eyes sting as he shakes his head, “No, no, Simon. Please. You have nothing to be sorry for, mi vida.” 

Simon’s lip twitch into a weak smile, though it looks more like a grimace, “I messed it up, didn’t I? Not very diplomatic of me, huh?” 

Raphael feels a habitual huff of breath exit his lungs, but his words are soft and gentle, “Diplomacy is for those who don’t abuse their power. Not for men like him.” Raphael pauses and when he speaks again it’s with clear uncertainty, “I hope you know that I would never...if you ever said no, I would never push for anything. What he did...there are no words, and I am so so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. I would die again to prevent this from happening.” 

Simon frowns and Raphael can see the growing lucidity in the fledgling’s eyes as his wounds heal and the shock wears off, “Don’t die, Rafa. I just got you.” Raphael lets out a shocked snort of amusement, but his face quickly becomes serious again as he looks into Simon’s eyes. 

“I promise to always protect you at any cost, Simon. Happily and with all my strength.” 

Simon’s shaking hand slowly lifts to rest against the back of Raphael’s neck, fingers playing with the soft hair there. “More like grumpily.” Simon chuckles at his own joke but he adds, “Thank you, Raphael. I know you would never hurt me, just as I would never hurt you.” Simon bites his lip and tugs weakly at Raphael’s neck. “Cuddles now? I don’t feel good.” Simon’s voice is weak and shaky, but blood has stopped soaking the sheets and his eyes no longer hold the dazed glimmer of before. 

Raphael curls around Simon’s taller but skinnier frame and gently pulls Simon’s body into his. He places soft kisses against Simon’s temple and whispers soothing words while Simon allows himself to cry. To fully feel so he can move on to healing. Raphael holds him all night and day and brings Simon blood to drink and runs him a bath and washes the blood from his hair. 

Simon regains his strength quickly but stays in their room for a few more days, shaken by the events. Raphael holds his hand tightly when they finally venture out together, and he smiles when the clan hovers and showers Simon with gentle touches and encouraging words. This is his family. His clan. With Simon by his side he knows he can finally give them all the protection and life they deserve. He will never again allow Simon to be used or abused. Will never again allow others to force his silence. He has learned his lesson, and he knows he cannot live without the light that Simon gives him. Not anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say that assault is more than just pain. It's the attack upon your safety or comfort. It's more than the bite or the head wound, this was about the violation of Simon's body and consent. I think it's easy to forget how damaging acting against someone's consent can be, but that's all that we really have. When that's not respected, it leaves marks.


End file.
